AN: Just something that I thought would be fun after seeing this - .com/favourites/?offset=96#/d1f5osb My comment on the linked-to page is the one made by psychicpixie17 (which is my Deviant Art username), third one down, I think. Be sure to read the artist's comments, it might make more sense that way. Yes, there will be more to come, I have already thought up an entire situation between Elphie and Dorothy where they sort of make a sort of mini-semi truce thingy (or something along those lines) and just sort of sit and talk and Elphie opens up a little bit after having a minor hysterical/emotional breakdown and becomes a little more willing to talk about herself and reveal a few things, but she also knows that the Witch Hunters are coming and that she probably doesn't have much time left, so she's just sort of awaiting her impending doom, but trying not to panic, because she's sort of getting attached to Dorothy in a way and doesn't want to upset her. It's sort of a bitter-sweet, heart-felt little story. Elphie, at this point, is heart-broken, she's all alone in this big, gloomy castle, she's been that way for a while with nobody to talk to, and suddenly, here's this strange little farm girl from a place she's never even heard of whose house killed her little sister and who she's basically holding hostage, yet this girl is not only curious and eager to learn more about her, but she's actually willing to listen to what she has to say, and gives her sympathy, which is something that she's never really had before. Think about it...If you were in Elphaba's place...wouldn't you want to snatch up that chance, too? Okay, I'm done rambling. R&R, please. Love ya'll (in a not weird kind of way)



I miss you so much. I think about you everyday and wonder when I'll see you again. Soon, I hope. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take! Putting on this ridiculous act is getting so annoying! The only reason I still have my sanity is because I keep telling myself over and over again that I'm doing it for you, so that we can finally be together again and get the shit out of this hell hole of a country. Just the thought of seeing you again keeps me going. If not for that thought, I'd have given up days ago. Since I can't sleep, I have guard duty at night while everybody else is asleep. I just sort of wander around in circles, staying in the general area of where we set up camp, but far enough that if somebody wakes up, they won't be able to hear me. I watch the ground the entire time and move slowly, talking to myself. I'm not really muttering or mumbling, but I'm not talking at a normal volume, either. But, anyway, you're the only thing I think about, and you're also what I talk to myself about. Every now and then, I'll pause and just look straight ahead, directly at the horizon line, but keep talking. I may not be able to sleep, Fae, but if there's one thing I can still do, it's cry. And I cry every single night. I cry because I miss you. I cry because I want to see you. I cry because you aren't with me. I cry because we're miles apart. I cry because I don't know when I'll get to see you again. I cry because I'm afraid I might not get that chance. I cry because I love you, Fae. I always have and always will.. I don't know how much more of this I can take. How much longer I can last...I'll be there as soon as I can.

I'm coming for you, Fae. Hold out for me. Just a little longer. I love you. More than you'll ever know.


Dorothy scrunched up her face. Fiyero? Who was Fiyero? And for that matter, who was Fae? She saw another piece of stationary sitting off to the side, partially hidden underneath the letter she had just read. She noticed that there was elegant writing on it, but whoever the writing belonged to hadn't bothered to finish their letter. She carefully moved the first letter aside and picked up the unfinished one. She glanced over it briefly, noticing that there were splatters of ink in a few places and one edge had been partially burned off, leaving it brown, singed, and ragged. There was a large brown stain of some kind near the top edge of the paper and one or two more identical, smaller stains in other places. The stains felt the same as the burned edge; crisp, almost fragile, even, as if the paper would crumble if touched the wrong way. She also couldn't help but take note of the fact that the ink was smeared in multiple places as if something wet had gotten onto the paper. Something like tears. This new, partly damaged letter, she could tell, was meant to convey just as much heartfelt emotion as the one adressed to someone named Fae. Like the first letter-this one adressed to Yero, which Dorothy guessed was a nickname for Fiyero, the person who had sent the first one. Could this one perhaps be Fae's response?-it was filled with love, longing, and most of all, sadness and heart-break. Perhaps even more of the latter two than in the first one.


I know how you feel, love. I miss you too. I think about you, I dream about you...My heart feels like it's about to burst with yearning! Yearning to see your face, to hear your voice, to look into your eyes and know that you love me...Yearning to feel your arms holding me close to you, to run my fingers through your soft brown hair, to hear you whisper sweet nothings in my ear, to lay beside you in bed with your arms around me...When I read your letter...When I read about what you do...every single was like somebody had taken a giant mallet and smashed my heart into a hundred gazillion little bitty shards, and I cried. I just...Oz, Fiyero, I can't do this anymore! I can't take it! I can't keep living in fear like this anymore! I wish I had never gone to the Emerald City all those years ago. Maybe then, none of this ever would have happened. You and I, we could be married right now, with a family! And Glinda, she and I could still be best friends! If she and I had never gotten on that Oz foresaken train, maybe then all of our lives would be so much happier right now, so much easier! We would all still have each other! Nessarose might still be alive, and Boq might've even come to his senses by now and they could've gotten married! They deserved each other, they always did, and now one of them is dead, and the other is...ugh! This is all my fault, Yero, everything is all my fault! I'm a horrible person, and I don't deserve your love, I never deserved it! I never deserved you or Glinda or Chistery! I don't deserve

The letter stopped there. The wet stains had gotten more and more frequent, and at the bottom, beneath the place where it ended abruptly, there was one giant wet spot surrounded by more of the smaller ones, as if the person had laid their head down on the desk and cried with either the side of or their entire face on the paper, causing the tears to gather in one spot and the stains they left to join together and create one big stain. Dorothy looked up. She heard footsteps in the hallway. She rushed away from the desk, and not a moment too soon, because the door opened to reveal the Witch.

Without her strange, magical disguise, she was actually rather young, probably no older than twenty years old. Her raven black hair, oily, greasy, wiry, stringy, and cut off mid-cheekbone with ragged edges and dead ends when she was in disguise, was, in reality, long and silky. It shone in the dim candle-and-torch light that was the main source of lighting in most of the castle, save the natural light that entered through the windows, though that was nearly gone this late in the day. It went down to the small of her back, almost to her waist. Her nose, which usally appeared long, pointed, and crooked with a wart, was really no longer or more pointed or crooked than Dorothy's own nose. And as for the wart, well, without the magic, her skin was flawless. As far as Dorothy could tell, she didn't even have any moles or freckles. A birthmark, perhaps, but if there was one, it was covered up. Every wrinkle had vanished completley from her face.

She had long, thick eyelashes and a slender frame. The hunch in her back didn't exist. She stood up perfectly straight. If Dorothy had to guess, she'd say the Witch was maybe somewhere around 5'10", but also knew that, of course, there was a possiblity she was wearing shoes with some kind of a heel on them that might've added a few inches or so to her height. She moved with grace and ease when she walked, and her long fingers moved swiftly when she paused on her way across the room to tie a small black bag onto a black rope, which she then put around her waist like a belt so that the small bag was hanging over her upper thigh. Her eyes were a rich brown that reminded Dorothy of freshly over-turned earth, and the bits of silver looked like flecks of mica. She had full, perfect lips.

Her skin was a much prettier shade of green than Dorothy had originally thought. It was a beautiful emerald color, but not like the greens in the Emerald City. This green was much easier to look at because it wasn't as bright as those other greens. Not a glowing green. Yes, she did glow, in a sense, but it was more of a young and healthy, metaphorical glow, not the annoying, albeit literal kind that was in the Emerald City.

She ignored Dorothy, seemingly unaware of the girl's presence, and went straight to the desk as soon as she was sure that the bag was firmly secured to the rope around her waist and the knot wasn't going to come undone. She started rifiling through the messiness and piles of paper and stacks of books sitting on the desktop, muttering to herself under her breath. Suddenly, she froze and the muttering stopped. "That's odd," she said, more to herself than Dorothy. "I could've sworn I left them both right here...Where in...Maybe I just misplaced them without realizing it. Where else could they be, though? Maybe Chistery has seen them..." She left the room, leaving Dorothy alone again, to wonder about several things. She didn't have to wonder for long, however, because the Witch came back after a few moments, now even more puzzled than before.

"That is so strange, I know I left them right-" She stopped dead in her tracks. Dorothy waited anxiously. Slowly, the Witch turned to face her. "What are you doing in here?" she said in a low voice, obviously struggling not to lose her temper. "N-Nothing." Dorothy stuttered nervously. "How did you get into this room?" the Witch demanded, her voice rising. "I-I found a secret passage by accident a-and I was curious, so I decided to s-see where it led." The Witch glared menacingly at her. Then, without any warning, she grabbed Dorothy by the wrists, holding her in a vise grip, and pulled her closer until the tips of their noses were just inches apart. She forced the terrified farm girl to look straight into her furious earth-and-mica eyes.

She spoke in that same low, angry voice, slowly, deliberatly. "Did you touch anything? I want the truth." Dorothy bobbed her head once, her entire body trembling with fear. Speaking in the same way as before, but now through her teeth, she asked, "What was it? And what did you do with it when you were done with it? Where did you put it?" Dorothy was silent, still trembling. "Answer me!" the Witch shouted. "I-I just looked at some papers on the desk. I-I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself, I was curious! I put them back on the desk as soon as I finished with them. I swear! Th-They should still be there." The Witch's eyes got wide. "What papers? What did they look like, what were they?" Her voice was getting louder and she was starting to lose her temper. "They were letters!" Dorothy cried. This seemed to infurate the green woman even more. "Who wrote them? And who were they adressed to? What did they say?"

"One was fr-from somebody named Fi-Fiyero, i-it was adressed to someone n-named Fae. I think the other one was a response, b-but I'm not sure. It was only half-written and one edge was burned and there were stains and ink splatters and a giant wet spot, and some of the ink was smeared...It looked like the person was crying while they were writing it. They both talked about how much they loved and missed each other, and they were miserable and heart-broken from being so far apart...The one written to Fae talked about getting out of a hell hole and never coming back, leaving forever. The person who wrote it said they were coming for her, they'd be here as soon as they could. It asked her to hold out for them-him, I guess. He asked her to hold out for him just a little longer, then said that he loves her more than she'll ever know."

"And the other one?"

"She said that when she read his letter, it made her cry and it was like somebody shattered her heart into tiny little pieces with a mallet. She wrote that it feels like her heart is about to burst with yearning, and she listed a bunch of things that she's yearning for, and all of them were something that had to do with him. She told him that she thinks about him and dreams about him every night. Then she got upset and started saying she can't take it anymore, and can't stand living in fear for much longer. She was talking about how if she and a friend of hers hadn't gone to the Emerald City years ago, things might be different, and their lives would be happier and easier, and...and..."

Dorothy stopped. The Witch had let go of her wrists and now had her back to the girl. Her face was covered by her hands, and her narrow shoulders were trembling. Suddenly, Dorothy realized that the Wicked Witch of the West was crying. The Witch pulled something from beneath the fabric of her dress around her neck. A necklace. She held it tightly in her fists, next to her heart, her sobs becoming more and more frequent and closer together. The necklace slipped from between her fingers, but she quickly snatched it back. The single brief second, however, was enough for Dorothy to see that it wasn't a necklace, it was a pendant.

It was a heart hanging on a thin gold chain, with a gold setting. The truly magnificent thing, however, was the gemstone set within the gold. It looked like a cross between an emerald and a sapphire. One half was blue, the other was green, and the two colors met in the center, swirling and twining into each other like fingers of mist, or fog. The Witch continued to clutch the pendant with one hand, and with the other, she reached into the folds of her skirt. When she pulled her hand back out, she had a folded up photograph. There must have been a hidden pocket, disguised as another fold in the fabric. She quickly unfolded it and looked at it. The picture was of a handsome young man with brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was smiling broadly, revealing perfectly straight teeth. When the Witch held both the pendant and the picture directly above her heart, the last few pieces of the puzzle that Dorothy was working on in her head fell into place, finally allowing the young girl to understand what was going on and see the whole picture. And the picture looked something like this:

The Witch was in love.

The Witch was in love with the man in the picture.

The man loved her back.

The man had given her the pendant.

The man was Fiyero.

Fiyero had written the first letter.

Fiyero had written the letter to the woman he loved.

That woman was the Witch.

The Witch was Fae.

AN: The gemstone set in Elphaba's necklace is not my creation. It's something called "Witch's Stone," and was created by Fiyero'sGirl-Elphaba, making its original appearance in her one-shot, "Sensible Rules," which is a very good story, and I highly suggest reading it if and when you get the chance. I am using it with her permission, I asked if I could in my review for "Sensible" and she PM'd me back saying I could use it anytime I wanted and that she looked forward to seeing it in one of my stories, so don't go to her saying "Defying-Gravity-4ever is using your Witch's Stone without permission," or "Maggie put the Witch's Stone in her story without asking," or whatever. Also, since I forgot to do this at the beginning of the chapter, I'll do it now:

Disclaimer: I do not own Dorothy (for which I am grateful, cuz I hate her guts, usually), and as for the rest of it, please see "The Ultimate Disclaimer."

Love ya'll!